


Contra la Pared (Against the Wall)

by grandfatherclock, varistea



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Con Artist AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/varistea/pseuds/varistea
Summary: Jester Lavorre is an expert in her field. Her field is stealing from ridiculously wealthy and oh-so-important people. She's aprofessional, and so ishe.The redhead with the pale blue eyes. The man with the sharp smile.Jester isinterested, damn it.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 13
Kudos: 115
Collections: Widojest Art-Fic Collaboration





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHH!!!! A new AU!!!! My friend Vari and I decided to collaborate on an art-fic collab of our own, and I'm so excited to share it with you guys <3 Their art is amazing and you can find them at [@violetaristea](https://violetaristea.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Thank you to [@Capitola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capitola) and [@dorcasdeadowes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcasdeadowes/pseuds/dorcasdeadowes) for beta'ing!
> 
> The title is Spanish for _against the wall_ >:3

Jester squeezes her tits. She can’t _not_. It’s something like a comforting ritual before she puts on her black brassiere, and she giggles as she carefully positions the eyes and hook of it to her front, latching it on as she bites her lower lip. This too is something she’s discovered—makeup is for after the clothes are on, she always ends up fucking up her lipstick and staining her teeth in frustration if she paints her face first. As she feels the the eyes snap into place, she carefully slides the brassiere until the two cups are positioned before her breasts, and then pulls them up, until her breasts are cinched, perfect and on display. Jester winks at her reflection, making a show of turning away and then looking back at this image of herself. “_Oh_,” she giggles, “and what are you doing here, all alone with no one for company?”

She exhales, shoulders dropping as she gives up the act for a moment to truly look at herself in the mirror. The brassiere was the final piece; the rest of her lingerie is already set perfectly against her skin—the diamond cut of her stockings makes her legs look long and pretty and _shapely_, she thinks, lips quirking up as she remembers a letter one of her old marks sent her recently. About how he misses her heavenly, perky, _shapely _body. The black lace of her garter accentuates the muscles of her stomach just that much more, and Jester playfully clenches her arms for a moment as she turns, admiring the way her ass looks all soft and round. There’s something thrilling about all this, she thinks, as she reaches for her black dress. It’s strapless, the cut low and generous in the way that it shows off her curves, and Jester grins as she smoothes out the soft fabric over her stomach, feeling the silk set in over her muscles. Perfect. This is _perfect_. There’s nothing more _perfect_ than being out there, being seen, being the centre of attention as a man’s stuttering breath hesitates in tandem the pattern of Jester’s blinks.

The next thing, of course, is the _makeup_, and Jester giggles as she sits in front of her vanity mirror, the decadence of the ostentatious light bulbs making her smile widen in the way they make her freckled blue skin seem purple in their soft hues. Her hair is already combed, sublime in the way that it frames the elegant arch of her neck, and Jester exhales softly as she smears foundation on with her fingers, taking care to make sure all the small imperfections in her skin are blurred out until an angelic face is beaming back at her in the mirror. Makeup is so much fun, like _art_, and Jester likes thinking of herself as a canvas in the clothes that she wears, in the way that she pins up her hair. It’s something the Traveler said, as he taught her how to put on lipstick, his finger under her chin to tilt her head up. His green eyes glittered. _There’s nothing wrong with treating yourself like art, darling_. She giggled, and he smirked. _But art doesn’t just exist to be beautiful._

She had furrowed her eyebrows at him then, head tilted as he ran a hand through her hair. _Makeup is to be beautiful, though_, Jester pouted, and the Traveler’s smile widened. He put away the lipstick, and picked out a different colour, making Jester giggle as she puckered her lips more exaggeratedly than she strictly needed to. _I want to be so hot, you know? So beautiful people are falling over themselves, saying, ‘Jester, oh my Jester._’ She put her hands over her heart, eyes all tragic and open. The Traveler’s laugh was a comforting one. _You better make me _so _hot, though_.

The Traveler _winked _at her. _Dearest, that was never in doubt. _Jester closed her eyes as she felt the lipstick against her lips, the faintest momentary pressure complementing the sensation of the Traveler’s warm finger beneath her skin. She could feel his breath too, and knew he could feel hers in turn. She found herself in that moment achingly grateful for her best friend showing her the ropes of all this, something welling in her throat that she didn’t quite know how to express. It’s why she loved art—the simplest stroke of the brush against a blank canvas could convey what thousands of impatient, lilting words fell short of. _But art exists to be radiant, to be colourful, to be tragic, to mean something_. He squeezed her cheek, and Jester giggled. _And you’re better than art, anyway. _He leaned over to kiss her forehead and Jester closed her eyes. _You exist just for the sake of it, and these colours on your face just accentuate that._

Jester grins awkwardly at her appearance, at the way her red lipstick glitters in the light as she smiles. The makeup around her eyes is a deeper blue than her skin and her lovely horns are ribboned in black silk, the ends of them trailing low and swishing a little as she moves her head. Her violet eyes look lush, practically shining, and Jester knows her mark is going to just adore her tonight—adore the way she lilts in her laughs to his not very clever jokes, adore the way she looks very pretty hanging off his arm. _Not that Bodo will be very pretty_, Jester thinks with an annoyed scowl, _with his stupid smile and scraggly goatee_. She kind of regrets the fact that she’ll be long gone by the time he realizes _exactly _what she stole from him, but not enough to get risky. He has a key to a safe, a key the Traveler _wants_, something that contains important documents related to some weird extradition rules that are fucking with business interests in Rosohna.

The Traveler had looked at her before, green eyes glittering as he asked if she could do this, telling her he had faith in her, and Jester nodded even before he finished speaking, lips quirked up arrogantly to hide the twinge of traitorous insecurity she felt in her gut. _You can count on meeeee_, she’d said then, trying to hide the slight wavering in her tone with a bright smile. He watched her carefully as Jester began to talk quickly about how she needed to buy the _latest_ Xhorhassian fashion if she were to impress people, she can’t look _out of place, Traveler_. He grinned and tossed her his credit card, and Jester’s impish smile made him laugh as she twirled around, pretending to wear a lavish gown that would make all the Xhorhassian men faint as soon as they saw her. It was a good day and the Traveler’s fingers threaded through her hair as he braided it, making her melt into his arms.

Jester stares determinedly at the image of herself. It’s almost like her _Invoke Duplicity_, but it can’t be—the casino has a strict repressor on all magic, both arcane and divine. It’s inconvenient for Jester’s agenda here, but not something she isn’t used to in the high end places she tends to scam. _The places that the Traveler _trusts_ me to scam_, she thinks, her jaw clenching with both pride and something wringing inside her own head, this trembling feeling she refuses to name even as the thought _disappointment-disappointment-disappointment_ coalesces in her own mind. The repressor is a welcome assurance to the guests. Both that the other dwellers in this decadent building with the glittering chandeliers couldn’t cheat through magical means, and that the house _itself_ couldn’t.

Honestly, Jester likes a challenge.

She blows a raspberry at her reflection, perfect lips playfully puckered, and then gets up. “Showtime,” Jester says to her reflection, admiring how her cleavage looks in the dip of her dress. Her skin is lush against the black, and it provides a measure of comfort as Jester walks over to her bed, slipping on her heels. They only serve to accentuate how good her legs look in these stockings, her ankles all arched as she takes a moment to balance on them. Jester then walks, carefully, to the door. This was something the Traveler showed her too, the art of balancing on heels, and she remembers the countless hours they would dance, her stumbling and him catching her in his arms. Her skin would only flush, and he would laugh, this perfect and twinkling sound. _Even your mistakes are lovely, dear, just hold your head high_. Jester held her head high in an exaggerated manner, up until she was seeing the ceiling of the room, and his smile made her shoulders sink with relief.

Jester exhales, and grips the door handle tight for a moment. Then a smile spreads on her lips, as easy and natural as talking a simple breath.

She will not let the Traveler down.

Foreman Bodo is so fucking _boring_.

Jester nods as he tells some tale about the small mining encampment he oversees. Something about an excursion with _giants_, and how he very heroically and single-handedly negotiated a settlement that got him all kinds of accolades. Jester trills out laughs in the pauses between his dialogue when he looks at her expectantly. It’s all bullshit of course—Jester can tell from the way his voice becomes just slightly higher at his more outrageous claims that he didn’t settle _shit_. If she had to guess, he paid someone off to do it for him, paid someone off to keep silent while he took credit. Bodo is generous with money as a solution to his problems. It’s how he thinks he keeps Jester’s interest, after all—buying her chocolates and frilly dresses to keep her satiated, to keep her intertwining arm through his, all tight and gripping and uncomfortable.

Of course, the pastries are nice, and Jester _does_ like new dresses, but she has to be careful how she eats in front of him, Bodo has a… super sexy perception of her, which doesn’t include Jester munching messily on chocolate. So she can’t even enjoy the gifts he gives her. His fashion sense is truly horrendous too_,_ and Jester wonders how he expects for her to _breathe _in some of the shit he gives her. It’s only been a couple of days of this flirtation, this light back-and-forth, and Jester is already so tired of it. Luckily it’s gone no further than flirtation, and she knows it’ll all end tonight.

Tonight, Bodo has a key from the Shadowhand, who’s at the other side of the room, up on a raised platform talking to other very important people. Jester _needs_ that key. Her eyes flit to the Shadowhand for a moment, to his arrogant smile as he leans close and whispers something to his own arm candy, and—and _oh—_

Holy shit. He’s _beautiful_. He’s a human, unique enough already in Rosohna, and his translucent skin looks fucking lovely under the glittering chandelier lights, reflecting into purples and pinks as Jester watches with an enraptured and studious gaze. His purple coat is lovely against his red hair and a soft but careful smile plays on his face as Essik Theylas curls a hand on his, reaching over to kiss his lips. It’s gentle, but claiming, a hand raised to the crook of the man’s neck, and Essik is smiling as he pulls away, eyes half-lidded as he whispers something else to the man. Jester’s eyes _narrow _as she watches them, and a flush crawls on the other man’s lovely neck, eyes _averting—_

* * *

Art by [@violetaristea](https://violetaristea.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

* * *

Oh. _Oh_. Jester giggles to whatever Bodo says next, right on queue to his fucking pause, but this time it’s a little more earnest, watching the redhead from the corner of her eye. It’s an act. It’s an act, it’s an act, it’s an _act, _the way that he quirks up his lips to whatever Essik says next is an act. It’s an act that might have a little hint of truth to it, but that spark of genuine fondness in those pale blue eyes only serves to make the performance better. The Shadowhand is said to be clever after all, and Jester doesn’t think he would indulge a tryst with absolutely _no _heat behind the teasing kisses and soft touches. Whoever this pretty man with the long eyelashes is, he’s playing the same game as her

Bodo grins at her flush, and Jester silently gives thanks to the mystery man for this little gift he doesn’t even know he gave her, this soft heat spreading on her face that only improves the way she bats her eyes at the boring man who’s touching her arm. “You’re a _tease_, Fiona,” he sighs, saying the name she gave him so _cloyingly_. He squeezes her arm with his sweaty hand, and Jester is far too practiced in all this to wince. “How about a kiss for _luck_?” He watches her hopefully, and Jester is intimately aware of the other people at this table, one whose eyes have not left her impressive cleavage all night and another who makes an obnoxious wolf whistle. Bodo grins at their reaction, and _oh,_ doesn’t he just love this? Thinking he’s the type of man who could keep Jester’s attention in this way. Jester thinks privately that the lavish gifts are a silent admission that he knows he really isn’t, and she would feel a _leetel_ guilty for how bad she’s playing him if it weren’t for his gaze raking over her curves, undressing her with his eyes. 

Jester grins, chirping out, “Of _course_,” in her impressive, low Tal’dorei accent. It makes Bodo’s eyes darken and Jester thinks for a moment as she leans over about how everything this man knows about her, finds attractive about her, is some elaborate ruse—the daughter of some foreign diplomat from Tal’dorei, of the Fancypants legacy, schooled and sheltered and now overindulging in the freedom abroad. It’s a simplistic, romantic narrative, one where he can gently slot her into his life as some summertime escapade, and it’s _whatever_. It’s not like Jester cares that this asshole sees her as a fantasy. It’s not like any of this matters as she presses a kiss to his lips. It does nothing for her, though she can tell from how he sighs that he enjoyed it. Jester gives him a teasing smile as her hand momentarily rests where she knows the key is; she _knows_ it’s there as she kisses him once more, hand reaching for a pocket—

And _success_, as she feels the cool metal against her even colder fingers_._ _Thank the Traveler_, she thinks, as she sits back down. The others at the tables watching with amusement as Jester flushes deeper. Bodo’s arm only tightens around her waist. The flush is from the thrill of victory, but if Bodo wants to take it as some indication of his kissing powress, Jester doesn’t really give a singular fuck. Her smile widens as she slips the key seamlessly into her little purse, the strap curving around a shoulder to keep it cinched close to her. She looks around, trying to pull her thread of thought away from the Traveler and how proud he’s going to be, to see if anyone else noticed the subtle theft. Bodo is sharing some other story and, after a moment, Jester allows the facsimile of comfort she’s displaying on her face and her body to become just a little more real, already grinning as she thinks about how she’s going to have to sneak in past the Shadowhand’s defenses and into his room tonight. If all goes well, Bodo will continue drinking the strong wine Jester keeps ordering for him, and she’ll be long gone before he even realizes _what_ went missing.

Jester feels a sudden dread, and she has no idea what’s causing it. It’s like when she was a kid and the voices that were loud in the hallway paused and became footfalls, making Jester realize, even as she scrambled back, that she was about to be discovered. She looks around right up until her eyes snake up that platform once more, to that redheaded man. He’s… _looking _at her. His pale blue eyes are even more striking now that they meet her own, and Jester’s flush continues to crawl over her face as she realizes her little theft had an audience of one—the Shadowhand’s _date_, the man that keeps his arm warm. Jester doesn’t quite know what to do with the momentary panic she is sure is registering onto her face, and so, remembering how the Traveler told her all that time ago to hold her head high, she… she… _fuck_, she _winks_.

It shouldn’t have worked. By all accounts, he should’ve leaned over to Essik and murmured in his ear, and Jester should’ve been grabbed roughly by a guard or two. Her theft should’ve been discovered and—_ha_, the _next_ thought kind of makes her _smile_—Bodo should’ve been humiliated for being the weakness in the Shadowhand’s impressive network. Jester _knows_ it would put the redheaded liar in a better position in his own little scam, whatever game he’s running for himself, and though she tenses her shoulders, waiting for him to make his next move on the chessboard that is this large and ornate room… he _blushes_. Jester blinks, and he looks away, his curiously blackened fingers tightening in how they intertwine with Essik’s own. The Shadowhand blinks at him, and then leans in, and Jester stares in shock at their chaste little kiss before blinking back and grinning at Bodo with such false devotion in her eyes. She wonders if there’s something to be said for honour amongst thieves after all, and the thought makes her romantic heart so giddy her leg kind of bounces.

* * *

Art by [@violetaristea](https://violetaristea.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

* * *

Luckily Bodo is so drunk he doesn’t notice. His voice is starting to slur and he’s calling her _Fifi, _hand reaching out to play with one of the ribbons on her horn as the night continues, cards called and tokens distributed. Jester plays along, giggling and blinking and perfect for him, perfect _beside_ him. All she can think about is how very clever this redhead is, the Shadowhand all doe-eyed for him despite the way Essik watches him _too_, is careful with him _too_. Jester wonders how long this man has been working on Essik. The stories of the prodigy’s paranoia are relentless, and before her thoughts drift back to the Traveler and the scheme she’s going to run tonight, she wonders what that silvertongue might feel like curling against her cunt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH!!!! The second part of the collab. Hope you all enjoy <3 <3 <3

Waiting for the opportune moment between when the old guard returns and the new guard drunkenly stumbles on over is always a fun balancing act. Jester’s disguise with the rumpled dress and the hickeys that her makeup presents, because _fuck_, it’s not like she was going to let Bodo touch her like that. The idiot slumped into unconsciousness as soon as she dragged him upstairs. Her ruse was more than enough to fool the guards down at the lower levels, their eyes averting as Jester winked playfully at them, but now it’s all about discretion, about not being seen. There’s a loop in the camera circuitry; she knows the Traveler has all that taken care of, so she just needs to make sure no fucking guard notices her little tiptoes as she looks down the corridor. “Here comes _Jester_,” she mumbles under her breath, back against the peach striped wall. It’s cool against her skin, and all Jester can think of is playing spy as a child, crawling on her knees and hiding in the vents and listening in on secret conversations, deals being made in the cover of backrooms. 

Jester waits, and her leg starts to bounce again after a moment, always impatient with this dramatically unsexy part of a good heist. She can hear the guard breathing in the other hallway that this one hidden behind a locked door curves into, and Jester presses her head back against the wall, hair fluttering against her face as she resists the urge to bite her lower painted lip. She’ll fuck up the makeup if she does, and she tries to remember the Traveler’s words of wisdom in this trying time. _Count something_, he suggested, when Jester complained about a delay as she waited for her doctor’s appointment, dejectedly licking the melted liquid from her ice cream cone starting to dribble messily onto her hand. He offered her a handkerchief, and his hand was warm on hers, making Jester still in her irritated movements. _Just count, darling_.

There are three chandeliers down this hallway, each with one hundred and twenty-five candles flickering and beautiful in their display—except for the third one. That one is missing one candle, and Jester allows herself to feel a moment of smug delight at catching this flaw in the opulent casino. The Lavish Chateau would _never_ allow such a blatant imperfection, now, would they—and her heart freezes, as she thinks, before she could stop herself, catching her reflection on a stained glass window, _The Lavish Chateau would never allow such a blatant imperfection._

Her jaw clenches and she stands up straight. It’s real fucking fortuitous that she hears footfalls in that moment because Jester Lavorre is done waiting. She allows an irritated exhale out past her parted lips as she opens the door she already picked open in her boredom and foresight. Then, after poking her head out for a cursory glance and noting the corridor was indeed empty, she stepped out in her heels and walked carefully to the doorway. Jester knew running would only cause her to trip and the last thing she needed was the guard who’d just left to come back up after hearing a thud. It took a good couple days to figure out the holes in the defense, after all, and the next guard on shift is just perfect—a drunkard, always late and close to getting fired. Regardless of any stunt she pulls on their shift. Jester pulls out her lockpick and gets to work, biting the inside of her cheek and allowing the sensation to be bracing against all the adrenaline she feels in this moment.

The lockpick snaps, and Jester hisses, “_Merde_,” under her breath, reaching into her purse for another one. This isn’t entirely unexpected; she’s not _great_ at this part of the job and it’s why she has so many spares lying around. This delay is unwelcome, though, and she exhales through her teeth, forcing down the sudden wringing anxiety at the thought of being discovered here, at this stage of the theft. Jester then tenses her shoulders, and continues to work. Her hands are trembling just a little, and she reminds herself that she and the Traveler planned for all of this and it was going to be okay_._ This is all going to be _okay_—

And _fuck_, Jester really didn’t need to hear distant footfalls right now. They’re staggering, _drunk_, and Jester continues to twist the lockpick, whispering a prayer to the Traveler even as she knows that his magic can’t reach her in this place. _I’m going to get through this_, she thinks, her hair falling forward as she forces her hands to stop shaking. _I’m going to get through this, and then buy very pretty dresses._ There’s a soft sound from the lock, one that makes Jester beam with relief, and she opens the door, wincing at the slight creak before she snaps it shut behind her. Not a moment too soon, honestly—she could fucking _see_ the fucking guard turning the corner.

The suite is dark, the lights turned off, but Jester has darkvision, and blows a raspberry quietly in the mirror she passes as she walks into the hallway leading into Essik’s office. Her face looks different in the night, her hair all dark and _goth_, and Jester muses on the thought of dying her hair black for just a moment, repressing the urge to giggle at the thought of her mother’s face. She has the suite all mapped out and she’s extra careful tiptoeing past the bedroom, taking care to pull off her heels lest they click against the nice hardwood. She holds them in her hand now, her feet colder than the cool of the wood under them, and peeks a look into Essik’s bedroom, making sure he’s actually asleep and not, you know, working or something. That kind of makes Jester smile, the thought of sneaking into his office and just seeing him there. There’s no magic anyway, she’s fairly certain her buff arms stand a good chance against a _wizard…_

He’s sleeping in a lavish bedroom, wearing a nice robe. The mattress seems all soft and perfect under the silk bed sheets, and his arm is curled around the redhead from earlier. The man’s hair is sprawled against a pillow and his face is soft, less careful than when he’s awake, his figure also robed. Jester thinks privately as she walks past them and continues into the office that she knows why Essik Theylas indulges this clever man with the translucent skin and the pale blue eyes. He’s lovely, there must be something so lovely about holding him in your arms and feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest against your own.

Holy _fuck_, Jester scowls to herself as she carefully opens the door to the office, immediately walking over to the desk and beginning to check the cabinets. Right now is no place to allow this envy, and she focuses on the sensation of the rich mahogany, all muted in the night. Jester lets out an exhale of frustration as she realizes all the cabinets are locked shut. She could waste precious time picking at them, but she has a feeling the Shadowhand is just a _leetel _too clever to leave such precious documents in a place so obvious. She clenches her jaw, and looks to what else is in his office. A bookshelf, full of books titled in a language Jester doesn’t speak. For a moment, she indulges the fantasy that moving one particular book might expose a hidden compartment, rushing over with a swish of her dress and pulling on a bunch of books excitedly, before sighing dejectedly and looking elsewhere. There are a couple plants, in rich purples and blacks that are just typical of Xhorhassian wildlife, but Jester doubts a safe is hidden in there, though she knocks on a pot just to make sure.

She’s about to curse out loud when she remembers something Beau once mentioned to her, the two of them working on a job—_Rich_ _people love hiding shit in walls_. Jester’s back straightens, and then a smile crawls on her face as she begins to feel up the walls, hands on the surface dragging forward alongside the back behind the desk. She gets a little tired partway through, and sits on Essik’s chair, continuing to search. Her mind in the methodical process starts to wander, wondering what _exactly _has happened in this chair. If Essik has fucked the redhead in it. She hopes so. The redhead is clever, he deserves to be fucked out for whatever long con he’s playing.

Jester is honestly very pleased with how well this is all going, and she thinks as much as she easily moves back the bookshelf. She doesn’t quite hear the cock of the gun, given she’s whispering, “_Yesssss_,” to herself with a smile on her face, gazing at a safe _in _the wall, at the cool grey stark against the peach. She does hear the accented, “Hands up.” She does _see _the arcane lights of this room snap on_._

Jester freezes, and then puts her hands up, wondering for a moment why the Shadowhand sounds _Zemnian_. As she turns around, suddenly it all becomes clear. She watches the redhead’s eyebrow raise at the way a smile crawls on Jester’s face and her shoulders slump a little in relief. He holds the gun like he hasn’t used it much, and though Jester still thinks the situation might’ve just become a little fucked, it is truly better to be discovered by another liar than by the mark. “Oh, _hi_.” She decides to discard the Tal’dorei accent for her lilting Nicodrani one. She’s already been discovered by him, and… and part of her, a _short-sighted_ part of her, wants him to know how she really sounds. Her voice breaks through the silence, and she winces, opting to whisper as she continues to talk. “How… are you?” Her face flushes at her own awkward question.

The man exhales through his teeth, eyebrows furrowed but not looking… angry_._ His purple robe is perfect against his skin and he’s barefoot like Jester. She wonders absentmindedly if he finds the floor cold. Humans are warmer than she tends to be after all, and she wonders if _Essik _likes that, likes that this man is warm. Jester’s eyes can’t help but notice the very _real _hickeys all along his neck, dark and fierce and _claiming_. “… Fine,” he says, after a long moment, sounding a little bewildered by her comment. Jester giggles, both in strain of the silence and also just because he really is adorable, lightly flushing as he catches her gaze on his bruises. “This is the _second_ time I’ve caught you, you know.”

Jester pouts_, _and tries not to let the stinging failure show on her face. He tilts his head, pale blue eyes seeming to perfectly glitter against the warm hues of the arcane lights, and Jester stares for a moment, before shaking her head, hands still held up. She’s very aware of how hot she looks in her rumpled dress disguise right now, her cleavage perfectly framed by the dip in her dress and her stockings making her freckled blue legs look just that much smoother. His gaze doesn’t travel _down_, though, and remains perfectly fixated on her face. He’s not looking at her eyes, and Jester realizes, after a moment, that he’s looking at the space between her left eye and her nose. She thinks with an exhale that she… _probably _can’t seduce him into keeping quiet about this escapade. Her own gaze watches the light pink of his flush though, and her smile widens. “I need the _documents_.” She gestures to the safe. “If you need _money, _my people are really _loaded_.” She wiggles her eyebrows, trying not to feel unclever like Bodo. “What’s your name, by the way?” She wants to attach something to that face, even if it’s fake. “Mine is _Fiona_.”

The man sighs, and he actually gives her a half-smile. “It isn’t, is it?” Jester winks at him, and experimentally tries to lower her hands, making him tense. “Keep them up, _Fiona_.” Her fake name sounds so _hot _in his low, accented voice, and she thinks the lingerie under her dress might be _affecting_ her state of mind because _gods_, she wants to fuck him. Jester wants to tease him and pull his robe down, her freckled blue hands exposing pale shoulders. She wants to see if they’re marked _too_, wants to trail her lips over them. Jester keeps her hands _up_ through this fantasy and blinks so very innocently at him, making his blue eyes seem almost mirthful as he watches her dangle her heels in one of her hands. “If you leave without the documents, no one has to know you were here.” 

That is… not a bad deal, and Jester thinks, biting the inside of her cheek, that if she wouldn’t rather die than fail the Traveler in such a pathetic fashion, she might’ve even considered taking it. For half a second. Maybe. He’s watching her eyebrows furrow and her jaw clench, and he’s exhaling, like he already _knows_ this encounter isn’t going to go the smooth, convenient way he’d hoped it would when he first edged his way forward into this office, hearing Jester mill around. She watches him for a moment, watches the way he holds his gun with that even face. He’s a really good liar, but Jester honestly thinks that he’s not as willing to use it as he presents himself as being. He speaks low, wanting to keep this on the downlow, and Jester can use that. “You didn’t tell me your name,” she says sweetly, and then waits for that half-second where his grip on his gun relaxes, before throwing her heels at him.

Just as she suspected, he doesn’t shoot, actually fumbling with the gun as the heels clatter against him. He really isn’t used to the weapon and Jester wonders if he’s ever even fired one, realizing she runs to him that he might just slip back. For a moment Jester is honestly worried he might accidentally shoot his own face, and she comes close, catching him in her arms before he can thud against the floor. The heels and gun clatter as they stare at each other, and his pale blue eyes consider her, eyes widened. She’s dipping him slightly, and his hair is even more vibrant up close, falling back to expose his perfect face. Jester is aware her own hair is falling forward and she feels a flush crawl on her face in tandem with Caleb’s own as he lets out a shuddering exhale, seeming a little worried by his sudden and dramatic loss of leverage. Jester slowly pulls him up, hand resting on the crook of his waist for a moment before letting go. “Your _name_?” she prompts in the sudden silence, kicking the gun away from him and crossing her arms.

He watches her and Jester thinks for a second, with how rattled he looks, that she might not actually get a name. Not even a fake one. The thought makes her suddenly feel a sad kind of longing—that same tragic feeling that one time she put down a book midway through a heist and had to leave town before she could return to find it. She forgot the title and something in her twisted at the lost opportunity. She wants a name for the pale-skinned man who holds Essik Theylas’ rare affection in the palm of his hand, and she’s fine making one up, but… names are important. Names are important and she wants his name in his own words, whatever bullshit collection of syllables that passes through his pretty lips in that lovely accent, whatever lie he conjures that will absolutely dazzle her. “Caleb,” he murmurs, and Jester can’t help the sound of delight coming out of her as her eyes _shine _at him. His own eyes widen momentarily, and _fuck_, that blush deepens. He’s beautiful. He’s everything. She wants to bring him with her and toy with him gently. “I can speak very loudly and have the Shadowhand wake up in an _instant_.”

Jester grins at him, tilting her face and allowing her hair to pool over one shoulder. Caleb watches the way her strands ripple and for a moment his gaze travels over the faux hickeys on her skin. His lips curl up, admiring her ruse, and Jester smirks. “But you won’t, will you?” He watches her silently, eyebrow raised. “Whatever _you’re _doing with him, me giving my _insight _into the fact that you’re also being _sneaky _and _weird _and a _criminal_ about this entire affair would be very _inconvenient_, huh?” Jester wiggles her eyebrows. “I know you saw me stealing from _Bodo_”—distaste colours her chirping voice for that instant, and Caleb’s jaw shifts, _noticing—_”so you don’t want any trouble, do you? Cayleb?” She says his name lovingly, exaggerating the syllables and making it completely her own on her tongue. Her expression betrays fondness and Caleb’s head tilts, seeming surprised by all this, but Jester doesn’t want to expose him. After all, he hasn’t exposed her yet.

“I don’t…” He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, staring at the gun she kicked away for a moment before giving her a sidelong look. “Things are delicate with me,” he murmurs, crossing his arms. His hair looks nice, and Jester watches his blackened fingers for a moment. “I don’t need you _here _to cast suspicion on me, I need you to disappear.” Jester’s eyes flit to the safe, and she wiggles her eyebrows at Caleb once more, causing his lips to quirk up a little as he leans away, back pressed against the wall. The movement causes a sliver of skin to become visible, and _gods_, Jester wants to fuck him. She can tell from the flush crawling along his exposed—_marked_, Jester thinks, grinning, _he’s so marked_—sternum that he isn’t… blind to the way her dress wraps around her curves. “What will you do if I’m difficult?” The question is theoretical, an eyebrow raised as a little humour works its way into his voice.

Jester flexes her biceps, and _yep_, he’s staring at her freckled arms, staring at how her muscles momentarily tense, and the way he rips his gaze away, the expression on his face almost guilty, exposes more than Jester thinks he realizes. She winks at him playfully. “_Beg_, maybe?” She clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at him. “_Please_, Mister Cayleb?” He exhales at that, this soft sound that might count as a breathless laugh to an optimistic ear. Jester’s smile curls wider, and she, after watching him for a moment, takes a step closer, watching that flush deepen. Jester Lavorre is very optimistic. “How about…” She nearly bites her lip, but she remembers her lipstick and Jester opts instead for the inside of her cheek. Caleb is staring at her with wide eyes, hair all mussed and looking… so _disheveled_. It’s _sex_ hair and Jester wants to make it _her _kind of mussed, _her_ kind of disheveled. “How about I _owe _you?”

Caleb watches her for a moment, watches the way her eyes are darting to his lips, and his gaze is half-lidded, kind of dark, kind of shadowed from the bridge of his nose against the radiating light. “How about,” he says, and Jester loves the way his accented voice has gotten lighter, loves the way his eyes seem to glitter as he watches every single one of her movements, “you owe me and I give him your _description_?” Jester frowns at that, raising a hand to experimentally touch his shoulder, and _oh_, she’s kind of addicted to the way he stills, watching her movements. “Tell a tale of how you _overpowered_ me.”

Jester giggles, and comes close, nose nearly dragging along his skin as she breathes against his sternum, causing his hand to lift. Jester’s smile widens as he sets it against her waist, a warm hand blistering against the rumpled black of her dress. She doesn’t… _love_ the idea of her appearance out there, especially with someone as powerful as the Shadowhand on her tail, but the Traveler is backing her, and she’ll be out of the country within the next two days regardless. This is a very good deal, and if Jester has to have _Alter Self_ cast on herself for the next couple of excursions it’s kind of worth it. The Traveler gets what he needs and Jester doesn’t have to disappoint him. And _Caleb…_ Jester’s smile widens. Caleb can play the soft-spoken and brave hero, trying desperately to stand up against the big bad _sexy_ Fiona Fancypants in a casino without anybody to back him up. It’s all kind of perfect and Jester likes to celebrate perfection in a very particular kind of way. “Want to be _overpowered_, Cayleb?” She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and presses a very soft, very deliberate kiss against his sternum, right up against where there’s already a dark, bruising mark.

Caleb watches her for a moment and Jester, feeling her own face darken with that searing look on his face, winks at him once more, knowing how good and soft and round her breasts must look from this angle, pressed up against the rich purple of his robes. “This is,” Caleb murmurs, “an _incredibly _bad idea.” He looks so fucking amused, though, and the hand on her waist tightens, causing Jester to squeak just a little as he pulls her up_,_ his hand on her ass to press her even more tightly against him. She can feel the way his cock is already hardening and she wraps a stocking-clad leg around his waist, giggling in delight as he twists the two of them until it’s _Jester _pressed up against the wall. His black fingers pull down a strap of her dress, exposing her gorgeous black brassiere. Jester laughs softly at his expression, until she’s moaning as quietly as she can as he squeezes one of her tits, her hand reaching out to brace on his neck and pull him close. “No hickeys,” he whispers, and then comes close, biting into her neck.

Jester sighs, gasping out his name softly before reaching out and wrapping her other leg around his waist. His two hands both perch on her ass, holding her up, and Jester grinds against the outline of his cock as it strains against the rich purple silk, giggling at the way he hisses her false name at the movement. Her fingers reach out to thread through his hair, her fantasy already fulfilled, and she knows she can’t bite him back, it would fuck with his story. She just stares up at the ceiling and pouts, trying not to whine his name too loudly at the way he’s gently pulling her brassiere down, rough thumb playing with a nipple until it’s all stiff and hard to his touch. Then he moves his hand, squeezing her other breast, and Jester groans as his tongue runs down her neck, the kisses interspersed with bites that she feels in tandem with the way that he pinches her nipple. “Oh,” Jester says, a smile blissful on her face as she rolls her hips against Caleb once more, fingers tightening in his hair. “I can see why Essik couldn’t let _go_ of you tonight.”

* * *

Art by [@violetaristea](https://violetaristea.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.

* * *

Caleb grins into the crook of her neck and she shivers as she feels his nose against her skin, breathing in the scent of her as the hand playing with her nipple trails down. His rough fingers thread against the intricacies of her garter and then Jester is _moaning_ as she feels him perch over her panties, two fingers gently touching the cloth right over where her cunt is dripping. Fuck, she’s already so _wet _for him, _wet_ for this, and she sighs, fingers running in circles over his scalp. “Can you?” His voice is a little silky as he presses _in_, and Jester whispers his name, dropping her head against his shoulder as she feels the drag of her panties against her folds. The patterned movement of his fingers and the warmth of them makes her thighs tremble as she gently thrusts up into that pressure. Her eyes close as he scraps his teeth over the shell of her ear, running his tongue along it. 

“I _can_,” Jester giggles, and she’s pulling back his robe to see his pale shoulders, see the slender muscles of his chest that she’s sure Essik has marked up. He is wearing nothing but a necklace beneath the robe, one that glitters all pretty against his skin. She hums in delight as she sees how _right_ she was, seeing perfect pale skin bruised with teeth all exposed as she slides down the robe to expose his shoulders, and presses in on those hickeys. Her smile widens as Caleb sighs, face flushing as he _finally _pulls down her panties to grin at her bare cunt, the folds of it already so obscenely wet from his previous ministrations. “I can imagine a _lot_ of things.” Jester gives him an innocent look as she _grinds_ against him, and then feels him finally reach forward and curl his fingers against her. She _moans_ as soft as she’s able as she feels his thumb brush her clit innocently once, and then pinch it with another finger. “I can imagine your dick _fucking _me, for instance.”

Caleb _pinches_ her clit again at her suggestion and Jester smothers her moan with his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist as he tightens his hold on her, making Jester’s back momentarily arch against the wall. “I bet you’re just dripping for it,” he says, voice low as he watches Jester flush at his words. He continues to squeeze her clit in between small intervals, alternating with running his fingers down her folds. And then Jester gasps as he bites into her neck, a bracing sensation as she feels a finger slowly push past her entrance, curling within her in that way that has her _writhing_. “Right, _Fiona_?” He smiles around her fake name, worrying the freckled blue skin of her shoulder between his teeth as he curls his finger in _deeper_, making her thighs tremble as he props her up against the wall. Jester throws her head back just a little as she feels another finger _slowly _push in beside the first, the stretch just sublime.

“_Jester_,” she moans, in no state of mind to think about what a horrible idea it is to give this man her real name, the name she chose all that time ago. All she can think about is his blackened fingers digging into her ass, scissoring her cunt and making it _very _hard for her to keep her head right now. Her breath feels all light, and she whimpers Caleb’s name again before rolling her hips against those fingers, clenching down on them, desperate for just a _leetel_ more pressure. “Please.” She’s sighing, giggling at the way Caleb’s eyes darken at the word. “I gotta leave soon.” She points with her chin out the window, and then gives him a quizzical look as she feels Caleb’s fingers still. _Fuck_, she already misses the sound of them against her wet folds and she clenches on them again, craving their warmth.

“Your escape plan,” Caleb says, his voice uneven as he gazes at Jester’s flushed face and pleading eyes, “is to leave out the _window.” _Jester nods, thrusting against his fingers and whimpering out a groan, and Caleb laughs. A silent and breathless sound that is as genuine as it is subtle. His blue eyes seem to shine in this light and the curve of his smile nearly takes her breath away, his pale skin perfect and exposed as the cloth drapes down, pooling at the crook of his elbows. “You’re… something else, Jester.” He murmurs her name almost reverently_, _and Jester sighs as she looks down, staring as he pulls out his fingers to wrap his hand around his own exposed cock, pink and flushing and _large_. Caleb jerks himself a couple times, the sight making Jester moan and part her thighs wider, his other hand still digging into her ass. She holds her breath as she feels him slowly brush his cock over her folds. Shallowly. Getting himself wet on all her slick_._

“_Please_,” she moans, and gives him the cutest smile. “The longer you take, the more time for the Shadowhand to discover us.” At _that_ unsubtle reminder, Caleb smiles gently at her, and Jester grips his sides—not tightly, not enough so that his skin will _bruise_, though it’s a fucking nightmare to convince her traitorous fingers to relax on him—as she feels his fingers run through her folds, feeling out her entrance once more. He pulls out his digits very gently and she clenches on them, trying to hold on to the tightness, her own fingers so _tight_ in that red hair. A slicked hand presses harder against her ass and Jester whines out his name as she feels his cock slowly push _in_, slowly sink into the warmth of her cunt. He stills, just revelling in the sensation of being inside her for a moment, and the thought of that makes Jester smile. Even as she feels his hips snap against hers and her lips part into the neediest little moan she’s ever heard. “_Cayleb_.” She whimpers it as quietly as she can and thinks, gleefully, he might’ve given her a real name after all. Who can have such _heat_ in their eyes at something _false?_

Caleh continues to thrust into her and Jester matches his movements, fingers careful not to drag against his skin and leave incriminating marks. The thought of Essik doing detective work on hickeys is kind of hilarious, but Jester really doesn’t want to get Caleb in trouble. Especially now. She just parts her thighs wider and whimpers into the searing kiss he pulls her into, feeling his thumb running in light circles over the skin of her ass, feeling his cock _pounding_ into her cunt, deeper and deeper and _deeper. Fuck_, the stretch is maddening and _everything_ and Jester doesn’t know when he began to play with her clit in tandem with the way his hips roll against hers. All she knows is that, though the casino claims magic doesn’t work here, the Traveler’s blessings are clearly with her, because she manages to smother her moan as she comes, lips against the crook of Caleb’s neck. Her back is all tense as she _clenches_ around him. The pleasure is fucking _everything_ and she sighs his name as he fucks her through it.

Caleb thrusts up against her one final time, before he is pulling out, Jester grinning at him as he _ comes _onto her thighs. She gently lets go of his waist, legs shaking as she finds the floor. She can hardly walk right now so she just watches Caleb pull up his robe to wrap it over his front and tie up the ribbon. His blackened fingers are elegant in their movement and Jester wonders what type of magic he dabbles in. It’s clear he’s some kind of magic user and if she had to guess, probably wizardry. Something he could entice the Shadowhand with. A shared love for the arcane. 

Jester doesn’t know _why _her smile turns a little bitter as she pulls up her panties and pulls down her rumpled dress, but it does. She exhales through her teeth and rises up on her tiptoes, giving him a tender kiss that leaves her even more satisfied than the excellent fuck. Caleb’s legs are shaking just a little and Jester giggles as she pulls him forward, across the desk until he’s sitting on Essik’s chair. “You’re very good at stealing?” His voice is expectant, and already kind of admiring as he tilts his head to watch her.

Jester flushes as she pulls out the key from where her purse had dropped to the floor. It glints in the light and she watches recognition flit across Caleb’s face before a smile works its way onto his soft lips. He’s staring as she opens the silver safe so fucking easily. She grabs for the collection of papers hidden in it, the white stark against the cool metal that’s not as cool as her skin, and gives them a cursory look to ensure that these are indeed the papers the Traveler was after. Jester then nods to herself, grinning with relief and already anticipating the afterglow of the Traveler’s proud smile. “The _best_,” she practically _sings_, and she walks over to where she tossed her heels, grabbing for them with her free hand and slinging them, without a care, out the open window. The office is a good few stories off the ground, but Jester doesn’t worry, her shoes are fucking durable, and she leans against the windowpane, her hair fluttering against the wind. “Bye, _Cayleb_,” she trills, waving enthusiastically. Caleb’s eyes are wide, and Jester giggles, pulling her holy symbol out of her purse—the doorway with a road glitters, perfect and pink and bedazzled—and shoving the folded papers in there before zipping it shut. 

“Bye, Jester,” he murmurs after a moment, and Jester watches his lips quirk up into the prettiest smile, his face all wide and open, as Jester jumps out the window, her legs strong and bracing for a huge jump. It’s about five metres out, as she feels her jump slowly arc into a plummeting descent, that she feels the Traveler’s magic kick in, the green energy fitzing around the invisible border behind which the casino represses magic. Jester arcs her back, tilting her head to look back at Caleb, who’s—

_Oh_. He’s watching her with a slow, fond little smile playing on his lips, and Jester’s entire face darkens as she casts _Dimension Door, _her hands twisting through the divine incantations. She feels everything fade into glittering pink, the cool wind against her stocking-clad legs turn to blissful and all-encompassing warmth and she giggles as she leans back against the Traveler, feeling the warmth of his arms around her for just this briefest instant before she appears on the ground. _I got what you needed_, she’s saying, lips quirked up in a painfully earnest smile as she tilts her head back, looking up at the pale face beaming back down at her. His red hair ripples around his lovely face, bright and fiery like Caleb’s, and his hand reaches to caress her cheek, making her blush and lean into his touch. _Aren’t you, like, super impressed?_ She wiggles her eyebrows to hide the way her chest seems to crush into itself just a _leetel._

The Traveler looks so _fond_ as he brushes her hair out of his face, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead. His lips are soft against her skin, a more subtle warmth than Caleb’s that has her just trembling. _Oh, Jester_, he murmurs, and his voice is a loving thrum, _I’m always super impressed_. His eyes are half-lidded as he gazes down at her and Jester blinks, feeling a helpless smile spread across her lips as the pink slowly fades away. It leaves her in the dark of the night, her feet slowly sinking to the floor, bare toes squeezing against the sensation of the soft grass. It takes a moment for her to blink out of her haze and when she looks up, she sees Caleb has already closed the window behind her.

Jester exhales shakily and grins up at the window with a fond look on her face. He’s careful; Jester appreciates that, even as she’s already thinking of ways to wreck his world in ways she thinks he would rather enjoy_._ She spares it one more look before searching out her pretty black heels, finding them tangled in a bush near where she landed. The moonlight is beating down against her frame and Jester grips her holy symbol tightly, casting _Disguise Self _under her breath as she leans against a tree trunk with one hand to put them on. The sensation of the straps sliding against her ankles is comforting, and Jester begins to slowly make her way around the casino exterior, disguised as one of the staff as she steps up against the pavement. The sidewalk is busy, people walking to and from the place Jester just walks, making her way to the small apartment she rented out for the week. It’s there that she’s supposed to meet another one of the Traveler’s contacts. Her purse is heavy with the papers and her chest is trembling with excitement and relief, her heels clicking against the pavement.

She looks up at the moon for a moment, people pushing past her, and wonders if Caleb spared a moment to look at the moon before he shut the window, so hasty in his determination to maintain the ruse. She hopes so. Jester doesn’t know why he looked _guilty _admiring the muscles of her tensed arms, but she hopes not everything in his life is bullshit and espionage. She hopes he has a centre, someone that keeps him from going adrift in the sea of disguises. She hopes he has a Traveler amongst all these people. Jester knows if she didn’t have him she would’ve lost herself.

Someone pushes past her, and Jester blinks back to where she is, amongst this crowd in the market square. She allows a small smile on her lips and gets drawn into the movement.


End file.
